


Aeternum

by chaseandcatch



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Billford - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaseandcatch/pseuds/chaseandcatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “A deal’s a deal, sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds from coming, but it would be fun to watch you try – cute, even!” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aeternum

**Author's Note:**

> So, everyone's been wondering - what exactly did Bill do between Ford shutting down the portal and Stanley arriving to make Ford so paranoid?  
> I like to think this is one of many, many instances.  
> (Trigger warning for abuse. All this is meant to align with canon.)

_“A deal’s a deal, sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds from coming, but it would be fun to watch you try – cute, even!”_

Ford jolts up, a few beads of sweat tracing across his temple. He fumbles for the lamp next to his bed, pulls the cord, blinking into the sudden half-darkness. Shadows dance up on the wall, and his neck aches a little, like someone’s stretching the skin. He’s awake.

He forces himself up, walks to the bathroom, flicks on every light he passes. Ford knows it won’t stop Bill, deep down, but it makes him feel better. The tap is ice-cold, and he has to wait a few minutes before the water starts running. He shudders on the tiles, splashes some water on his face, and looks at himself in the mirror.

His neck is red.

Ford freezes, his eyes going wide. He reaches up to touch, and his hand comes away wet. The wound beneath looks scabbed. Almost scarred. Ford wets a hand-towel, dabs at it until it stings. The blood gives way to an image, after a few moments, and Ford drops the towel.

A triangle sits on his neck, etched plastic-shiny into the skin like it’s been healing for months. Ford slaps a hand over it, backing away from the mirror, shaking his head.

“B-bill,” he mutters, shaky, under his breath. His fists clench. _“Bill!”_

His voice echoes in the emptiness, and somewhere underneath it, Ford hears a whisper. He glances around the bathroom, lit up and open, and shivers. His gaze flicks back to the mirror, to the reflection of his neck. He pulls his palm away, slow, but the triangle stays. He runs downstairs to the lab, makes sure the portal’s still off, that all the doors are locked. He pulls on the first thing he finds – a turtleneck – and makes himself a pot of coffee, his hands shaky every second.

Stanford Pines doesn’t sleep that night.

*

He lasts three days, his brain buzzing through each hour on coffee and adrenaline and fear, until he passes out on the storeroom couch. The world doesn’t coat itself in greyscale, but Ford feels his bones relax. He tenses up, scanning around the room.

“Took you long enough, Sixer.”

Ford jumps, his eyes flicking around, but the discordant voice seems to echo from every corner.

“Leave me alone,” he snaps, standing up from the couch.

“But you’re so _tired.”_ A finger snaps, somewhere, and the mindscape transforms into Ford’s bedroom. “Don’t you want to relax?”

Ford’s bed looks softer than he remembers, and it glows with a golden shine. The ache in his bones sets back in, after a second, and he collapses. There’s a solid, warm wall in front of him, and a hand threads itself through his hair. He leans into it without even thinking.

“There,” the voice says, “that’s better, isn’t it?” It sounds softer, closer. Ford looks up at the figure before him, holding him up by the shoulders, and jerks back.

“Come on, Sixer,” Bill says, “we were so close!” He holds out his arms, leaning over the bed.

“Get out of my head,” Ford says, backing away. “I told you, Cipher, the deal’s off.”

Bill laughs, loud and grating. “People don’t just _cancel_ deals with me, IQ.”

“Well,” Ford snaps, “I am!” He flattens himself against the wall. Bill grins, snaps his fingers, and the world turns sideways.

Ford falls on his back. The windows rotate to replace the roof in position. Ford’s bed and nightstand fall next to him, crashing with a muffled thump. Bill stays where he is.

“You seem to forget,” Bill says, taking a few steps down the wall, “who has all the _control_ here.” He snaps his fingers again, and the room rotates once more. Ford falls on his head, but scrambles up, steps backwards across the roof – now, where the floor should be.

“We were meant to be working towards a better future!” Ford snarls. “You tricked me!”

“And you were _dumb_ enough to believe me!” Bill laughs again, but it’s more a chuckle than a howl. “A valiant effort, sure, but your dimension is barely breakfast compared to mine!”

“Why, then?” Ford’s reached the wall, again, the windows resting upside-down behind him. He keeps his eyes on Bill. His hands are shaking. “Why go to all the trouble of ripping my world apart?”

Bill starts to shake, like he might cry. Ford watches him, frozen, before he lets out a roar of laughter. It rips through the room, bounces off the walls. The windows crack and shatter like spiderwebs. It crawls up Ford’s spine, reverberates through his bones, before Bill takes a breath, sucks it all back in with a smile.

“Because it’s _hilarious,_ ” he chirps, and Ford snaps.

He rushes across the room, grabs Bill by the collar and shoves him against the wall. They hit it with a muffled thud, and Bill giggles.

“There we go,” he says, grinning.

“You’re a _monster,”_ Ford hisses, shoving him back again. It takes him a moment to realize how close they are – Bill’s nose is almost touching his. “You _used_ me!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” Bill says, and Ford punches him in the face. Bill laughs, hand coming up to press over where Ford hit.

“I never want to see you again!”

“Sucks for you, Sixer,” Bill says, smirking. “You filled your house with pictures of me!” He drops his hand from his cheek. “And even if you go blind, I’ll still be able to see you!”

“Don’t you have a soul?!” Ford steps back, his voice cracking as he talks. His shoulders shake, and he moves to hit Bill again, but Bill catches his hand.

“Hey, IQ-”

“- _don’t call me that!”_ Ford screams, and collapses. Bill catches him before he falls. A finger-snap later, and they’re back on the bed.

Ford kneels forward, sobbing, clutching to Bill’s coattails. A pair of arms circle around his torso, and Ford leans closer. Bill re-threads his hand through his hair.

“I-I gave you _everything,”_ Ford croaks, shaking so hard he thinks he might fall apart. “My – my time, my memories, my body, my _mind-”_

“Sixer-”

“-a-and you took it all,” Ford whimpers, “like – like it didn’t even matter to you.” He swallows, his vision blurry, and looks up at Bill. “Do _I_ even matter to you?”

Bill watches him, for a moment, and pulls him closer. “Stanford,” he says, and Ford makes a noise that sounds pathetic even to him.

“Stanford,” Bill says, “of course you do.”

“Stop _lying,”_ Ford hisses. “Please.”

“I’m not,” Bill says. “You took up a lot of my time too, you know.” He lies down on the bed. Ford shifts, reluctant, before he follows suit.

“Then why?” Ford swallows. Bill pulls him onto his chest. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m a muse, remember? I-”

“-and do _not_ pull the muse bullshit with me,” Ford says, sitting back up. “Can we have a little honesty between us, for once?”

Bill watches him, for a heartbeat, before his eye narrows. “Fine, Sixer,” he says. “You want honesty? I’m doing this because it’s _fun.”_

“You said-”

“-and,” Bill cuts in, “I would’ve been fine to keep you around once things got wild, if you weren’t dumb enough to keep getting in my way.”

“Glad to be a nuisance,” Ford says.

“You’re cute, Sixer,” Bill says. “You’re fun, too – that’s why you’re still around.” He pulls Ford down next to him, again, and climbs on top. He straddles Ford’s thighs with his knees, and rests his palms either side of his head. “I haven’t had this much fun in _ages.”_

“Get off me,” Ford says, squirming, and Bill kisses him.

Ford freezes. Bill prods at his mouth with his tongue, smooth and wet. Ford melts into it, after a moment, and Bill pulls up with a wet _pop!_

“See,” Bill says, grinning, “that’s what’s so fun about you, Sixer.” He traces a finger along Ford’s neck, stopping just above the triangle scar. “You fight back as hard as you can, but at the end of the day, you know who you belong to.”

Bill sits back on his haunches, his hair a little ruffled, and rests his hand on Ford’s thigh. Ford scrambles up as best he can, and they stare at one another for a moment.

“I don’t belong to you.”

“Now, smart guy,” Bill purrs, “you made a deal.”

“It wasn’t fair,” Ford says. “You _lied.”_

“The details don’t matter too much now,” Bill says, moving his hand a little lower. Ford stiffens. “But I’m sure you remember promising me your mind until the end of time, right?”

Ford glares, but doesn’t answer. Bill squeezes his hand, and Ford lets out a groan.

“And in return,” Bill continues, and Ford feels a hand reaching for his belt, “I promised you that I’d help you change the world.”

Ford’s pants come loose, and Bill rubs a hand over his briefs, squeezes again. Ford gasps, and Bill lets out a whistle.

“Bill-”

“-we can still change this world, Sixer,” Bill says. “None of this has to end. All you have to do is restart that portal.”

“It’ll _destroy_ the world,” Ford says, panting. “I-I can’t, Bill, I – I _won’t!”_

Bill smirks. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, standing up. Straightening his coat. “I have some friends in waiting. I’ll bridge our worlds eventually, Stanford.”

“I’ll stop you,” Ford says, more to himself than to Bill.

“Will you?” Bill turns, heads for the door. “How do you plan on stopping me?”

“I’m not stupid enough to tell you, Bill,” Ford snaps, “but I will!”

“Damn,” Bill says, “got so close.” He leans against the doorway. “You were dumb enough to trust me!”

“I promise you,” Ford says, “that won’t be a problem for me _ever_ again.”

Bill grins, toothy and sharp, and Ford can’t help but shudder. “Go ahead, then, Stanford Filbrick Pines.” He snaps his fingers, and the room goes dark.

Ford jolts up, sweat beading, almost falls off the couch. He reaches for the light switch. His arm aches, this time, and he holds it up to the light. It shines red, a message scratched into the skin.

_TRY AND STOP ME_

*

Stanford Pines slams open the third journal, picks up the nearest pen he can find. There’s tears streaming down his face, and the message on his arm still leaks red, but he doesn’t care. He can barely feel it. He scrawls a second message over the top of a fresh page, making the letters as thick as he can. Bill said he had friends. He needs to remember.

_IN GRAVITY FALLS, THERE IS NO-ONE YOU CAN TRUST._

**Author's Note:**

> Aah, you made it! So, what did you think?  
> (Are you crying? I'm crying.)


End file.
